


i'd like to make you mine (you can call me up and have a date any old time)

by Blackbeyond



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Help Line AU, M/M, Meet-Cute, Phone Calls & Telephones, Pining, Supportive Georgi, Supportive Mila
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-01 04:56:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10914771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackbeyond/pseuds/Blackbeyond
Summary: Georgi is the one to give him the number.“Here, Viktor,” he’d said awkwardly one day after a long practice, shoving a piece of paper into Viktor’s hand. “You look like you need this.”Viktor had looked down slowly at his hand and recognized that it was phone number but-“I don’t think I need a sex line.”“NO!” Georgi yelped in surprise, “god no, Viktor. It’s not- it’s not a sex line! It’s a support line.”“Support line,” Viktor repeated. “A support line for what?”--Or the fic where even the best skaters need help sometimes.





	i'd like to make you mine (you can call me up and have a date any old time)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Written for rebelrumi who said "do whatever you want" and "pining viktor will always leave me DECEASED."
> 
> Song title comes from "Beechwood 4-5789” by The Marvelettes.

Georgi is the one to give him the number.

“Here, Viktor,” he’d said awkwardly one day after a long practice, shoving a piece of paper into Viktor’s hand. “You look like you need this.”

Viktor had looked down slowly at his hand and recognized that it was phone number but-

“I don’t think I need a sex line.”

“NO!” Georgi yelped in surprise, “god no, Viktor. It’s not- it’s not a sex line! It’s a support line.”

“Support line,” Viktor repeated. “A support line for what?”

“Anxious skaters,” Georgi muttered under his breath. “It’s just, I know you’ve been worrying about how you’ll do this season, about if you’ll be able to surprise the judges and audience like usual, and this line helps with…well, anxiety. Technically you can talk to them about anything, but they specialize in ice related sports.”

He’d trailed off towards the end, unsure if Viktor was responding well to the help, but shrugged eventually. “You can use it or not, I just thought you’d like the option.”

And so, Viktor found himself staring at his phone, the number dialed but the call button not yet hit.

“I don’t need a help line,” he insists to himself, thumb hovering over the screen. “How good can they be anyway?”

He hems and haws for a few minutes, just getting ready to delete the number when Makkachin hops onto his couch, bumping his hand.

_Ring! Ring!_

“I regret ever adopting you,” Viktor scolds the poodle, putting the phone to his ear, resigning himself to the call.

“Reach Out Hotline for Skaters, how can I help you?”

Oh.

Well.

That was a nice voice.

Viktor coughs, lowering his voice a bit and trying to hid his accent. If this was a help line for skaters, well, he didn’t want them to know who he was.

“Well, I-I just, I just-“

“It’s alright, take your time,” the voice on the other end says, voice warm and soft, like they were talking to a child without being condescending.

“I’m just worried about this coming season,” Viktor admits, cursing Georgi in his head for being so damn perceptive.

“Anything in particular or just pre-season jitters?” the voice asks, and Viktor decides it sounds like a man. A soft speaking, nice sounding man. Who made him feel warm inside.

Maybe he needed professional help.

“I’ve never really had pre-season jitters, but that’s probably just the ego talking,” Viktor jokes, or he at least he hopes he’s joking.

“Or just confidence,” the man offers. “Are you feeling less confident this season?”

“Less confident and maybe more unsure of the future,” Viktor says, feeling like he could tell this person anything. “Have you ever felt like that?”

“Have I ever been unsure? Of course,” the voice answers with mirth in his tone, “but we’re not talking about me right now.”

“It’s helping me take my mind off the season,” Viktor pleads and the voice laughs gently.

“What do you want to know?”

“How did you get into this? The help line, I mean.”

“Well, I’m a skater myself,” the man tells him, “my rink mate and I set this hotline up when we saw a lot of the junior competitors looking lost but unwilling to ask for help. We figured an anonymous hotline would get them to open up and ask for help when they needed it the most.”

“That’s…really thoughtful,” Viktor whispers. He never would have thought of doing something like this, but not everyone had a coach like Yakov. Sure, the older man was a bit strict and harsh, but he genuinely cared for his skaters and Viktor had never felt uncomfortable in the man’s presence.

“We do what we can,” the voice responds. “Is there anything else you’d like to talk about?”

“No, no, I should hang up,” Viktor mumbles, “you probably have kids who need this hotline more than me and I’m holding up the line with my unimportant insecurities.”

“No one’s problems are ever unimportant,” the man soothes him, “you can always call, no matter what the issue is.”

“Even if it’s not skating?” Viktor finds himself asking.

“We sometimes get callers who aren’t skaters, but we aren’t going to turn them away. Everyone needs help sometimes, we’re just here to do our part.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Viktor smiles into the phone and whispers a farewell before hanging up.

He might owe Georgi a fruit basket, because he ends up calling the line again later that week. And then again, and again, and again, and again.

“I just, I thought I had everything ready! I’ve been practicing these routines for weeks and today they just felt _wrong_! Like everything was disjointed and out-of-sync, and, I just don’t know how to fix it!” he vents one evening, storming around his apartment with Makkachin hot on his heels.

Practice had been a disaster. He was making his jumps, but just barely. His body wasn’t moving with the music like it had many times before. It all felt so foreign even if he’d done this routine time and time again. Yakov had looked at him once and kicked him off the rink to go home.

“Come back when your head is in it again,” the old man had growled before personally shutting the door in his face.

“Have you had a break at all recently?” the voice - Yuuri, Viktor had discovered when he’d caught someone in the background addressing his operator- asks him gently.

“What?” Viktor bites back, before feeling a flash of guilt for snapping at Yuuri. “Sorry, it’s just that I don’t really do breaks before the season starts. Not until after the season, really.”

“Sorry to be blunt here, but you need one.”

“Excuse me?”

“You need a break!” Yuuri finally breaks, sounding incredibly exasperated. “You call three times a week sounding increasingly stressed and now I find out that you’ve never had a break? Your brain is fried, your body is stressed, and you just need to chill.”

“I need to chill.”

“You need to chill.”

“I LIVE IN RUSSIA!” Viktor yells. “I’M ALWAYS CHILL.”

There’s silence on the other line.

A smug, smug silence.

“I might need a break,” Viktor finally croaks.

“And now I know you live in Russia!” Yuuri chirps. “We’re all learning things today.”

“I hate you.”

“You really don’t.”

\-----

“I took a break,” Viktor shares a week later, having taken a break from practice and the help line. “It was helpful. You were right.”

“Well, don’t make it sound so painful,” Yuuri laughs, and Viktor feels a warmth swell in his chest. He had missed the sound of Yuuri’s voice and the other man’s constant wit and reassurances. Maybe it was bad to hitch his sanity and happiness to a mostly anonymous man on the phone, but it was the only thing keeping him together right now and he didn’t know whether to blame or thank Georgi for it all.

“What did you do on your break?” Yuuri asks, when Viktor doesn’t volunteer any more information.

“I binge watched Netflix shows,” Viktor admits. “I was behind on all of them.”

“All of them? Even Sense8?”

“Especially Sense8,” Viktor says, “and Black Mirror, Jessica Jones, Daredevil, Luke Cage, House of Cards, Orange is the New Black-“

“Wow, you really meant all of the shows,” Yuuri realizes. “And you watched all of them?”

“It was a long break.”

“Just in time too, the season is starting soon.”

“Yes, it’ll be soon. Will you, will you still be on the hotline?” Viktor wonders out loud.

“I won’t be.” Yuuri sounds apologetic. “I’ll be competing this season, but some of the coaches will be taking over if you still need any help.”

Viktor flounders, mouth open as he tries to form words, suddenly faced with not hearing from Yuuri until the end of the season.

“Is it possible…” Viktor starts, biting his lip as he wonders if this will work.

“Is what possible?”

“Can I get your personal number?” Viktor asks.

There’s a silence on the other end and Viktor closes his eyes, knowing he overstepped.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri whispers and the line goes dead.

Well.

Fuck.

\-----

“Are you okay Viktor?” Mila asks as they stand at baggage claim. The red head looks concerned, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll be fine,” Viktor chirps falsely, face bright with the fakest smile he can muster and Mila jolts away, frightened by the intensity.

“I’m…not sure I believe you,” she tells him, but she goes off to grab his bag, leaving Viktor by himself under a cloud of misery and despair.

He wasn’t pining, shut up.

“You’re pining,” Georgi announces, knowingly, coming up behind Viktor with his luggage in hand. “I can tell, I do it a lot.”

“I’m not pining,” Viktor whines. “This is all your fault anyway.”

“It’s really not,” Georgi says, amused, “but I’ll take the credit for it anyway. Look, the guy said he was competing this season, right? You might even run into him at some point. You listened to his voice enough that you should be able to recognize it.”

“Are we still on this?” Yuri grouches, “who cares about Viktor’s failed relationships? I want to get to the hotel and Yakov won’t leave without him.”

“What can I say? I’m a star,” Viktor teases Yuri, trying to think about anything other than Yuuri. “But yes, let’s go everyone! We need to be well rested for tomorrow!”

They get to the hotel with little delay, tumbling out of the shuttle van and dragging their suitcases behind them while Yakov is talking with the hotel employees.

“Two to a room!” Yakov barks at them, tossing key cards in their general direction before continuing to converse with the staff. The poor desk attendant looks ready to run away from the conversation, Viktor notes both in horror and amusement.

“C’mon hag,” Yuri grumbles, hitching his bag over his shoulder as he goes to the elevator. Mila smiles dangerously and follows, and Viktor hopes that she doesn’t kill the younger boy before he can debut in the senior division.

“C’mon Yuuri!” a bright voice shouts and Viktor looks behind him as a tanned young man barrels out of the elevator Yuri and Mila are about to get on.

“Slow down, Phichit,” a familiar voice laughs, and everything freezes.

He’s gorgeous, is Viktor’s first thought, taking in inky black hair, pale skin, and black glasses framing beautiful, expressive brown eyes.

Why is he running away from me, is his second thought as Yuuri looks in his direction and promptly runs in the opposite way, leaving his friend behind.

“Yuuri? Yuuri, wait!” Phichit yells, running after the love of Viktor’s life.

“That him?” Georgi asks, pressing a hotel key card into Viktor’s slack hands.

“I think so,” Viktor breaths, absent mindedly putting the card in his front pocket, “no, I know it’s him.”

“Well, have fun with that. I’ll be in our room,” Georgi announces. “Good luck.”

Yeah, Viktor decides an hour late, he really needed that luck to go into effect soon, because he couldn’t find Yuuri anywhere.

“He can’t have left the hotel,” he mutters under his breath, almost about to give up when Yuuri stumbles right into his arms.

More accurately, he bumped into Viktor and is now in a heap on his lap.

“Yuuri!” Viktor says happily. Yuuri looks up with wide eyes.

“You know who I am?”

“Of course I know who you are! Why wouldn’t I?” Viktor asks, helping Yuuri to his feet, giddy with the knowledge that he has Yuuri right in front of him.

“But, you’re Viktor NIkiforov,” Yuuri yelps, “you’re the best skater in this world!”

“And you’re Yuuri Katsuki,” Viktor recites, having google stalked Yuuri after finding out what he looked like earlier, “you’re the top skater in Japan.”

Yuuri’s eyes grew impossibly wider and Viktor leans in to whisper in his ear, “you’re also the one who’s been so kind to me the past few months.”

“Months?” Yuuri asks, a puzzled expression taking over his face before it’s replaced with one of realization. “No, it can’t be. You can’t be Hot Russian Dude!”

Viktor blinks.

“I didn’t mean to say that out loud,” Yuuri whispers, covering his reddening face with his hands. “That didn’t just come out my mouth in front of Viktor Nikiforov.”

“I’m still here?” Viktor offers, placing his hands over Yuuri’s. “If it helps, I was calling you Attractive Voice Helper in my head before I found out your name was Yuuri.”

“I just called you Attractive Voice Dude in my head until I found out you were from Russia,” Yuuri says, looking at the ground, “Phichit suggested Hot Russian Dude after I told you to chill.”

He pauses.

“I told Viktor Nikiforov to _chill_ ,” Yuuri moans, horrified.

“Stop with the, the Viktor Nikiforov thing,” Viktor sighs, “I’m just Viktor. Viktor the Hot Russian Dude.”

Yuuri looks up at Viktor, biting his lip in consideration before backing up one step.

“Nice to meet you, Viktor the Hot Russian Dude. I’m Yuuri, the Attractive Voice Helper,” he says, holding out a hand. Viktor chuckles and shakes it, clinging to Yuuri’s hand after it drops back to the dark-haired man’s side.

“How do you feel about breakfast tomorrow?” Viktor asks as they walk towards the lobby. “To get to know one another better.”

“That sounds amazing,” Yuuri tells him, smiling shyly up at the Russian.

And it was amazing, Viktor thought to himself a few months later, a sleeping Yuuri by his side as the sun peeks through the window of his apartment.

He really did need to buy Georgi a fruit basket.


End file.
